The Academy
by Thoughtful Lunacy
Summary: A Fine Arts Academy opens its large, pointy gates for another year of school. Insanity ensues. Rating is for profanity, blasphemy, and double contrabass tubas. SEQUEL NOW BEING WRITTEN!
1. The Obnoxiously Short First Chapter

**THE ACADEMY**

**by Thoughtful Lunacy**

**---**

The Obnoxiously Short First Chapter

--

Lord Burroughs, headmaster of the Academy of the Fine Arts, smiled grimly. The letters were in the mail. Yet another year of new students would be arriving within a few days, full of hopes, and dreams, and ambitions for him to crush. This was going to be fun.

The sound of his wife's voice in the next room reminded him of one thing that would be working hard to destroy his year: his wife's son, Eric. And, as though his very existence wasn't enough, he was a musician! If he had been in theatre, like Lord Burroughs had, then there would be no problems. But, a musician! Oh, agony!

As if on cue, the illegitimate boy ran into the room, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, guess what, Dad? Something really cool happened!" the fifteen-year-old exploded joyfully.

"WHY HAVEN'T YOU DIED YET? I mean, er... what is it, my darling heir?" he grimaced at the thought of this musician inheriting all his hard-earned money.

Eric looked confused for a moment, but, as he was used to this treatment, he recovered quickly.

"Uncle Ryan bought me a shiny new baritone! It's silver and everything!" Lord Burroughs began to twitch.

"Y... your _Uncle_ Ryan got you a baritone? Well... that's nice. Now go to Hell... I mean... run along like a good little boy and practice."

As Eric eagerly dashed out of the room to practice his shiny new baritone, his quote-unquote Father turned back to the school roster in an attempt to regain some of his former malicious joy...


	2. Another Rather Short Chapter, Introducin

**THE ACADEMY**

**by Thoughtful Lunacy**

--

Another Rather Short Chapter, Introducing an Important Character

--

Several hundred miles away, there was a loud thump and a strangled yowl. A large striped cat was seen as a blur coming out of a dark room. The door only opened enough to admit said feline. Back inside the room, a very disheveled figure sat up from the large canopied bed. After getting in a minor fight with the black curtains, it glanced towards the ominous gray clock. The dragons flanking it glared back. According to its large hands, it was noon, or midnight, both of which were good times to wake up.

And so it was at noon on a Sunday in the middle of summer break that Magdalyna Pasley, her pajamas wrinkled and twisted, her auburn hair sticking straight up in some places, emerged from her room, blinking in the bright light, and walked straight into a wall.

"Hey! There's a wall there!" she announced in surprise. Her younger sister, who had been up for the past three hours, gave her a mild glare. "What?" Magdalyna asked defensively. 'There is!"

Her sister shook her head in mock sadness and walked off. Magdalyna stuck out her tongue at her sister's back. "Mom, I'm going to retrieve our mail from the box of retrieving letters!" she yelled as she walked out the door, still in her rumpled pj's. A moment later she came running back, waving a piece of parchment paper. "Mom! Dad! I got in! I got in! And I got the financial aid as well!" She jumped up and down excitedly as her parents attempted to decipher her rantings. In the end it was discovered that Magdalyna had gotten into that Fine Arts Boarding School she'd been going on about for months. Now, all that needed to happen was for her to back and hop on a plane to the Academy. Magdalyna thought that this might be the best day of her life. There would be worse to follow.


	3. Welcome to the Academy! May I Take Your

**THE ACADEMY**

**by Thoughtful Lunacy**

--

Welcome to the Academy! May I Take Your Soul?

--

It was a lovely day, full of gloom and death and other pleasant things. The ravens crowed mournfully and blue lightning lit the background. It was in this flattering light that the new students first saw the Academy.

After three straight hours on a plane, Magdalyna was quite happy to be walking to the school from the airport. Her guide and section leader, though, was more than thankful to be rid of the girl when they reached the forbidding structure. Wondering what his problem was and why he had looked at her so strangely when she had declared things shiny, Magdalyna began to wander around, looking for her dorm.

Apparently, the school was sorted into four groups, Writers, Artists, Dramatics, and Musicians, and the dorms were split accordingly. Since she was taking both music classes and writing classes, the auburn-haired girl was a little confused as to where she would be sleeping.

Eventually she asked an upperclassman in a giant cheese costume if he knew where the musicians' dorms were. He gave her a set of careful directions, delivered by a very angsty and sexy voice. She thanked him, and started walking. Upon reaching her destination, she discovered a list of names and dorm numbers pinned to the wall. A quick inspection of the list showed that this was indeed where she was supposed to be, and that she and three other girls had been assigned to room 14E.

--

As Medea Figaro, band nerd and brassie extreme, stepped onto the Academy property, she heard a booming and mildly sexy voice call out, "BARITONES, OVER HERE!"

She registered the name of her instrument and obsession, and, repressing an excited dance, followed the voice to a somewhat small group of people. She immediately noticed two hot guys in the group in the middle of a bitchfight. The snippets she caught consisted of:

"SIT DOWN, FRESHMAN. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT."

and...

"Yes I do. I was first chair my entire middle school career!"

"I SAID, SIT DOWN!" repeated the first, and definitely much sexier guy. This time, the second immediately sat down on the ground, almost as though he had lost control.

Medea cautiously approached this group of freaks, among whom she instantly felt at home. Hot guy #2 turned to look at her questioningly. Medea noticed that she was the first girl to have arrived to this particular group.

"The flutes are over there, girl," he told her contemptuously. For a moment, her mind failed to register this grievous insult. That brief moment over, Medea attempted to repress her fury.

"Bugger you, bastard!" she replied with a trembling voice.

At this point in time, the sexy, booming voice of Hot guy #1 chose to speak again. "WELCOME, NOVISI. I AM GOD." A few foolish audience members tittered nervously. He shot them a glare, and all noise stopped. "DORMS ARE THIS WAY," he continued. Along the way, he told dead baby jokes, much to the freshmen's disturbance and, in the case of Medea, amusement.

At the end of the walk, the one called God pointed to the stairway to the musician boy's dormitories, over which hung a sign that clearly stated that these were boys' rooms.

Medea turned inquiringly to God, who ignored her for some time, not having bothered to acknowledge her existence. Noticing her, he turned around and exlaimed in his booming, sexy voice: "SON OF A BASSOONIST! IT'S A FEMALE!"

"Nice of you to notice," Medea would have responded had she not been scared to death of her section leader.

"UMMM... GIRLS' DORMS ARE IN THAT DIRECTION. YOU CAN FIND THEM ON YOUR OWN. I'M GOING TO GO TAKE AN ASPIRIN." God seemed momentarily confused before regaining his divine composure and leaving Medea to stand at the foot of the boys' stairs.

Turning around mildly depressed, Medea promptly tripped over a boy lying on the floor. She gave him a curious look, deciding that it would probably be best not to ask, and walked off in search of the girls' dorms.

After several agonizing minutes of searching, Medea finally arrived at the dorms.

Her first thought upon entering room 14E was one of shock, dissapointment, and confusion, and it included many bad words.

On the Northwest corner, there was a large assortment of striped objects. There was not a single item in that part of the room that did not bear striped in some manner. The Northeast corner was vibrantly purple, and there was a large vanity complete with a light up mirror labeled "NICKI", and random makeup. The Southeast corner was delightfully dark and gloomy, with many gargoyles and pointy objects. The final corner was bare and lonely. She automatically assumed it was hers. In a few moments, the formerly empty space was covered in band-related things. The walls were plastered with drum corps posters and sexy guys in feathered hats and sleek, shiny uniforms.

Behind her, the door smashed open, and a girl in lots of striped clothing entered the room. She gave Medea a strange look. Medea returned the facial expression.

"Hello, my name is..." they both began. An jumbled string of syllables followed as they both proceeded to say their names over top of each other. An awkward silence followed.

"And I'm Magdalyna. Although, according to the roster, I'm Magdaleene. Whatever," announced the head sticking out of the black bed curtains in the Southeast corner.

"Anyways, as I was saying, I'm Brittany Orida. No, I am not a potato. I like stripes and saxophones. And striped saxophones."

"My name is Medea. I am an obsessive band nerd and a severe brassie."

The final occupant of room 14E chose this moment to enter. Medea's first reaction was to think, "OMFG! A whore!" Magdalyna was more vocal about her opinions.

"Why are you walking around in your underwear?" she asked loudly. "Did you lose your trunk? Damn baggage boys!" She shook her fist in mock fury. The longhaired newcomer shot Magdalyna a glare.

"Sorry for wearing clothes that don't make me look like a guy!" she snapped. Magdalyna looked falsely hurt and confused.

By the time the time the hall monitor came for room checks, all four were still bickering viciously.

"Shut the fuck up!" yelled the severely stressed hall monitor, who had seen worse that day but wasn't willing to deal with any more. The room members reluctantly complied.


	4. Chip Off the Old Block, Eh?

**THE ACADEMY**

**by Thoughtful Lunacy**

--

Chip Off the Old Block, Eh?

--

The next day, much to the disappointment of a great many people, the sun rose bright and early. There was not a cloud in the sky. All students were expected to be at breakfast at 7:30. Sadly, the girls of room 14E did not get to start their day with a complete balanced breakfast, since they didn't wake up until 8:00. In 15 short minutes, classes would be starting. Yet another bitchfight ensued over the issue of the alarm clocks.

"I thought YOU had set YOUR clock!" was the most common phrase heard in the following minutes, right up there with "Fucking whore!" and "You dumbass freak!"

With the help of an unidentified miracle, they all made it to their respective classes on time. Brittany and Magdalyna to woodwind class, and Medea and Nicki to brass class.

Woodwind class was fairly uneventful, though very... interesting. Their instructor was a rather round man with brown hair and a goatee. His first words to them were "Yo! Welcome to Woodwind class! My name is Professor Pisces. Yes, like the Zodiac sign. Ironically, I'm a Gemini. Okay, so you're all frosh, right?" He looked around to see if anyone would contradict the statement. No one did. "Cool beans!" said Pisces optimistically.

"Okay, so we're going to play a get-to-know-you game." A groan came from the assembled band students. "But first I want you to get to know your section. So, split off into sections and become acquainted with each other. It'll be rad, yo!" The students paused in the act of splitting up to give Prof Pisces a questioning look.

After a moment of searching, Magdalyna managed to find the clarinets. They proceeded to sit in a circle and eye each other nervously. Finally, a mildly nerdish boy with plain round glasses decided to take control of the section.

"Um..." he started. "How about we just go around in a circle and say our names and hobbies." He looked around for approval of the suggestion. Receiving none, he shrugged and continued anyway. "I'm Mort. I like to read and obsess over my wood clarinet." The rest of the section, having nothing better to do, followed in suit. When Magdalyna's turn came, on a whim she introduced herself as "Magdalyn", leaving the bothersome 'a'. She also declared herself a bookworm, and mentioned that she was taking writing classes as well.

--

Meanwhile, in brass class...

The young, Australian instructor was fighting in vain for control of his classroom. The fault for this anarchy could be laid quite clearly on the trumpets, with some minor assistance from the trombones. The baritones, tubas, and horns sat back to watch the metallic insanity, and chatted calmly.

Medea had gathered up her courage and started a conversation with the hot guy next to her.

"Hello! I'm Medea! I'm a baritone! Who are you? What instrument do you play?" she said this all very quickly.

The guy smiled and replied, "I'm Glen Nome, a tubist! But, apparently, they ran out of tubas and have to switch me to some other instrument. Something like a tuba, but..." he strained to remember what it was called, but to no avail. "Ah well. It should be pretty easy."

They were conversing about mouthpiece brands when a familiar figure interrupted them.

"Oh, look! It's the girl!" Medea turned to face the speaker.

"Oh, look! It's the bastard!"

"Hello, Eric! Eric, this is Medea. She's a baritone!" Glen said jovially. "And Medea, this is my good friend Eric Burroughs. He's a bari, too! I'm sure you guys will be great friends!" He appeared completely unaware of the animosity between the two.

"I'm looking forward to it," Medea said glumly.

"Yeah? Well I'm not." Eric walked off angrily, missing the sarcasm.

Medea was ever-so-slightly distracted by a boy tripping over nothing and landing right in between her and Glen. She recognized the back instantly. It was the same boy who was on the floor the previous evening.

"Hey! It's my dear friend, Ames! Hello, Ames!" he offered his hand to the boy on the ground to help him up.

When Ames Irisin finally caught his balance again, he turned and studied a rather confused and scared Medea.

"You should get your hair out of your eyes. And brown isn't your color. You should be blonde, or red. Or both," he added.

Medea, very confused but somewhat pleased that she had been addressed by the rather cute Ames, (ignoring the sexy Glen and Eric) looked at him quizzically.

"Err... sorry 'bout him. He likes to comment on people's hair. And trip over nonexistant objects," said Glen.

"I can't help it! There's just too much stuff on the ground!"

Medea decided not to add, "Maybe there's just too much of your feet on the ground!"

Eight minutes later, a very exhausted brass class professor stood in front of the aspiring young pupils. The trumpets and trombones, tired of this anarchy, slowly retired to their chairs.


	5. The Rest of the Academy

**THE ACADEMY**

**By Thoughtful Lunacy**

--

The _Rest _of the Academy

--

The horror of first period over, the rest of the day went smoothly. Or at least, as smoothly as a day in a school full of freaks can go. There was only one more snag in Magdalyna's day. This occurred when she made the major mistake of taking out her band folder in writing class. They nearly mobbed her.

It was third period. Basic Writing. Their first assignment was to write a short story about their reactions upon admission, so their classmates could get to know them. Magdalyna spewed out what se considered absolute BS, except for the part about running head-on into the wall, and had taken out her music to examine it. They had received some of the warm-ups they would be using later after the lame get-to-know-you game, and some of the fingerings were rather tricky. Technically, she was supposed to be listening to the boy reading his story, a blond kid named Mike, or something. But although he was obviously a great writer, he got in, didn't he; he left something to be desired as an orator. Magdalyna consequentially ignored him. Her neighbor, a small Asian girl, leaned over.

"Hi," she whispered. "I'm Hannah."

Magdalyna looked up and smiled. "I'm Magdalyna, but you can call me Magdalyn," she replied cheerfully.

"Cool. Whatcha got there?" Hannah pointed to the sheet music. And then Magdalyna made the mistake that would take months of social tip-toeing to fix, and irrevocably lose her the writer's trust. She showed Hannah the music.

"Just trying to figure out some fingerings for these scale runs. These things are crazy!" Her happy tone was slightly at odds with the withering look she gave the music. It was due to this glare that she at first noticed Hannah's horrified expression.

"You're a musician!" She seemed appalled.

"Yeah." Magdalyna shrugged, not having picked up on her error yet. "Been a clarinet for the past three years." Hannah promptly turned and began to whisper to her other neighbor, completely ignoring both Mike and Magdalena for the rest of the class, until the teacher, a relatively young red-haired man, left the room for some official business-stuff.

The door clicked shut. For a space of 30 seconds, the room was decently quiet. The calm before the storm... Then, assured that their instructor, Mr. Luee, would not be returning any time soon, they all turned on Magdalyna. The storm broke. The screaming began.

"You're a musician!"

"Traitor!"

"Halfbreed!" and

"How. DARE. you!" was all she heard before the voices began to jumble and become an angry wash of sound.

Magdalyna was once again extremely confused. What had she done? Yeah, she was a musician. So? That shouldn't have caused all this insanity. She huddled down in her desk defensively, and prayed for the bell to ring.

Since she was in a writing class, most of the insults were very creative and very painful for the normally happy girl. But, and here was a major difference between the Academy and a regular public school, no one became violent. There was no throwing of paper or spitwads, no hitting, no putting gum in her hair. Just words. Angry, painful, wounding words. And so, Magdalyna had no chance to lash out. True, she could have thrown back a witty, biting retort, but that would have meant staying calm, which she was far from.

She wanted to hit something, someone. She had been brought up to never through the first punch, though. So she sat and fought back tears until the bell rang, which occurred without the reappearance of the one who could have saved her, the professor.

The bell rang, and unlike her middle school bell, it rang with the clear beauty of a real bell. Not a false, electronic zap. The bell rang, and Magdalyna ran from the classroom.

She didn't stop until she had reached her dorm and flung herself down on her bed. Thankfully, her corner of the room was still in shadows. She wrapped herself in the shadow, was soothed by it, and began to cry. It wasn't until she had run out of tears that she noticed the small medicine bottle on her side table.

"Oh! Hey, look. It's my loony meds!" She popped the bottle open and swallowed one. Slowly, slowly, she calmed down. Once she was again semi-coherent, she checked her schedule to see whose class she had cut during her crying fit.

"Well, that's good," she murmured, seeing that it was, in fact, lunchtime. "I don't feel like eating anyways. I should, but I'm not going to." She said, almost as though expecting opposition to this statement. None came, of course.

Magdalyna spent her lunch period writing hateful rants against artistic prejudices and assholish classmates. Her roommate bitchfight was added as a side note, since the current animosity in the room was more of a friendly hatred, as opposed to the focused, anti-musician fury of the writers. By the time the bell rang, Magdalyna had filled another four pages of her rant book, and felt considerably better as she went to her next class.

**AN:** Forgive any typos, as I typed this up at 11:30 at night, and my k and q keys are screwed up.

Also: Anonymous reviews are now allowed. Happy, Baka?


	6. The Pact of 14E

**THE ACADEMY**

**by Thoughtful Lunacy**

--

The Pact of 14E

--

It was 4:59, and everyone was anxiously watching the clock and waiting for the APOCALYPSE, also known as the bell, to ring. The seconds ticked past and eventually did so. Everyone began the mad rush to the common rooms and dorms. After a week and a half at the school, everyone knew the schedule well enough to know that they only had one precious hour before dinner, then homework.

In this room of 14E, four canopy beds were shut off from the rest of the world as the band students attempted to hide from the remainder of the room. From beneath Nicki's sparkling purple canopy, there came a loud crunching, as of someone eating a tasty vegetable.

Suddenly, a hazel head poked out from the "Blue Devils" curtains in the southwest corner of the room.

"What the bloody hell is that annoying racket!" called a very peeved Medea.

There was silence. The sound continued.(1)

From the southeast corner, out poked another head,

"Who the hell is doing that!" demanded Magdalyna sleepily.

"Did someone say something about a flute?" said a voice from the striped riot that was Brittany's corner. "Because flutes are woodwinds! So are saxophones! But saxophones are better! They're better than everything! Saxophone supremacy!"

"NO, GODDAMNIT(2)! Brass is better than your idiotic saxophone!" Medea hissed in return.

"Where is that damned crunching coming from!" screamed Magdalyna.

A final head emerged from the purple curtains. She was clutching a conical orange object with a green, leafy substance on the end.

"What's going on, you guys?" Nicki inquired innocently.

Everyone turned to look at Nicki, focusing in particular on the object in her hand.

"So _that's _where the noise is coming from!" announced Medea furiously.

"That's it! No more vegetables in the dorm room!" declared Magdalyna.

"Especially potato products!" amended Brittany.

"But aren't potatoes a starch?" Nicki objected.

"Your point is...?" Brittany retorted. "That includes Mr. Potato head! He is completely and totally unacceptable!"

"What about Mrs. Potato Head?" said Nicki obnoxiously.

"Well, she's perfectly fine. It's just Mr. Potato Head that isn't allowed. This is a girl's dorm, after all!" answered Magdalyna.

"Wait a minute, this reminds me! We need to establish some rules for our room if we want to survive this year," Medea interjected.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Nicki put her hands on her hips and crossed her legs expectantly.

"Like, no instrumental supremacy. We have to deal with that enough in band every day."

"Saying saxophones are number one isn't supremacy, it's honesty!" Brittany maintained.

"Shut up, whore! No it's not!" Medea seemed truly offended by the thought of a world ruled by saxophones.

"She's right, you know," Magdalyna said sympathetically. "Believing that saxes are number one isn't honesty, it's stupidity! And we do need rules, sadly."

"Oh, alright! But I will not tolerate any burritos, especially near my part of the room! Beans are impossible to get out of my clothes," Nicki conceded.

"And there are no boys allowed," Brittany added.

"What is this? Our 4th grade clubhouse?" Magdalyna seemed amused.

"I agree with Brittany. No boys, as long as there's no cheese also," Medea added. "It's against my religion.(3)"

"What! But I love cheese!" whined Magdalyna.

"Well then have it at meals! Just don't bring it into the room. I can't stand the smell of stagnant cheese!"

The next uarter of an hour was taken up with mere rule-making and other such lame activities. The Rapunzel-escent Nicki acted as secretary and recorded the proceedings. The end result looked something like this:

**The Pact of 14E**

There shall be no:

Boys

Burritos

Cheese

Instrumental Supremacy

Vegetables

Potato Products (including Mr. Potato Head)

Rap "Music"

Dead Bodies

Drugs (except Magda's loony meds)

Insults in foreign languages w/o explanations

Lepers

Cheesecake (see above)

Bright yellow (brass is not yellow, damnit!)

Trumpets or the people who play them, without acceptable reason

Pointy wooden objects (Metal only!)

Ketchup/Tomato juice

Large bushes

Lard

Therapists

Hairdressers

Small children unseasoned by BBQ sauce

Prophets

---

(1)Please ignore this oxymoron.

(2)Somewhere in a blessed practice room, in a different section of the Academy, the one known as God looked up from his music. "DID SOMEONE SAY MY NAME?"

(3)DCI agnostic


	7. And you thought Baritones were weird

**THE ACADEMY**

**by Thoughtful Lunacy**

---

And you thought the Baritones were weird...

---

"I don't think so!"

Medea reached out in an attempt to grab the sheet of paper, but Eric "the Bastard" pulled it away.

"Like I'd ever give you first part! That one goes to me! I was first chair all through middle school!" The boy held the music above his head, a wicked grin across his face. "I'll tell you what. If you can reach it, you can have it."

Medea glared at him. "You are such a bastard! You're too tall, you know that!" She attempted to grab it anyway.

"Oh, stop torturing her, Eric!" called the well-groomed Ames. "Why don't you guys talk to Professor Conner? I think he forgot to give us chairs!"

"Why would we need to? Everyone knows I'm the best!" Eric replied.

Medea sighed and retired to her chair, staring contemptuously at the second part that graced her stand. There was no way she could win, not against such a blindly arrogant bastard. Chair tests would start soon, anyway, so it wouldn't be for long.

"Hey, Medea! Look over there!" Ames disrupted her brooding by pointing at the instrument locker room door. Glen was waiting excitedly in front of the large opening.

"Let's go see what's going on!"

They went to greet their tubatastic friend, who waved delightedly.

"Hello, Ames! Hello, Medea! They're getting my new instrument now!" He looked as if nothing could be more invigorating.

"What did you say it was again?" Ames pulled a stray blond hair out of his face.

"I don't really remember. It's still a tuba...oh, look! Here it comes!"

The squeaking of flimsy case wheels sounded and stopped. Glen tried to peek in the locker room, but the darkness was pitch black and, oddly, solid. Professor Conner, the brass and full band instructor, and Professor Mandell, the percussion instructor, walked out of the locker room door 20 feet away, looking exhausted. Mandell looked around.

"Looks like we're gonna have'ta take out a wall!"

Professor Conner looked at his watch. "Naw, I think there's enough time to get God to handle it."

Mandell stared at him for a moment.

"Great idea! But we'll need someone to go get Him. You-girl!"

Medea twirled around to stare offendedly at the percussive professor. Professor Conner shushed him hastily.

"Err... Miss Figaro, could you please be so kind as to retrieve the one called God?"

Medea blinked. "Where is He?"

"Oh, you'll find Him! You're a baritone after all, and all sections have a spiritual connection!"

Medea immediately dismissed this thought, as she refused to have any connection whatsoever to Eric, exception being her first to his face. But she took up this challenge anyway, as it might help her get a good name among the staff.

Before she even reached the east door, a rather short, bleach-blond trumpet boy stopped her.

"Hey! Do you want to know where God is?"

"Wait... who are you? How do you know of my sacred quest!"

"Oh yeah! I'm Nathaniel Xaranthos the 42nd!"

Someone from the trumpet section yelled "Lemonade!" in a sing-song voice. Laughter followed this exclamation, as he received an unthreatening glare.

"Anyway, those people call me Lemonade. But who cares, because I'm rich! Yup, I'm really rich, and I get £38,000 a year for allowance! That's more than what half the British population earns! Hey, where are you going?"

Medea was continuing out of the door.

"Wait! Don't you want to know where God is?" Lemonade yelled after her.

Medea turned around. "Of course I do! But I'm really not interested in how rich you are."

"Well, why the hell not?" Lemonade seemed confused. "I know I am!"

Medea stared at him in disbelief. "I'm going to go find my section leader now, bye!"

She ran out of the room, leaving Lemonade standing there, still confused as to why anyone would not care how rich he was.

After a couple of minutes of diligent searching, but no finding, Medea realized that she had no idea where the fuck she was. Daunted by the prospect of being lost in the dark, creepy hallways of the Academy, she paused to attempt to figure something out. Unfortunately, there was an annoying percussive noise that prevented all thought. Curious, Medea followed the sound to its source, a plain metal door. Had she managed to locate the secret classroom of the often-heard but never seen drummers? And what of the elusive pit players? Were they here also? Would Medea ever find her way back to the band room? Would Ames find a way out of being boiled in a pot and fed to hungry cellists? Tune in next week for another thrilling episode of:

**THE ACADEMY!**

...Just kidding.

She cautiously opened the gray door, and had to act fast to avoid being hit with a flying pineapple.

"What the bloody hell!"

"Oh, sorry! Did they almost hit you?" A somewhat imposing figure inquired.

"Oh, no! That's alright. Feel free to pelt me with fruit any time!" Medea grimaced as she rose from the floor.

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry! It's that damned pit again, they go crazy when they haven't seen moonlight for 70 hours in a row."

Medea nodded understandingly. She knew how the pit could be. "Do you mind telling me where I am?"

"Sure!" There was a clicking noise, and the lights turned on. The imposing figure was revealed as a tall, pale, round-faced guy with a raccoon tan and a red baseball cap that clashed with his black musician's uniform. "This is the percussion room! I'm Lance, by the way! Drumline captain! Who're you?"

"Medea Figaro," she quickly shook his hand, then got straight to the point. "Do you know where the one called God is?"

Lance frowned slightly. "What do you need Him for?"

"Well, Professor Conner needs His help to unload an instrument.

The drumline captain's smile returned quickly.

"Oh, yeah! I know where He is! I saw Him organizing the locker system on the computer in a practice room. It's the one that's glowing, so you can't miss it! Just keep taking left turns until you reach the band room door, then go right until you see it. Hey," he added, rather quickly. "Are you sure Prof C. doesn't want my help? I am drumline captain!"

"He said they'd probably need to take out a wall, but thank you anyway."

Lance thought for a moment. "Oh. Yeah, that's definitely a job for God. Well, see ya!" He ran back into the percussion room.

"Thank you!" Medea called before the door closed.

She immediately began to follow Lance's instructions and walk back to the band room. She continued down the creepy, looming hallway until she reached a T. Left. More walking. Left. Left. Left. Left. She began to feel dizzy as she walked on and on and on... but somehow, within two minutes, she had walked right into the east band room door, making an abrupt "Oof!" sound as she did so.

"Oh, excellent!" She said, looking right, and immediately noticing a glowing practice room in the gloom of the hall. She resisted the urge to fall down and worship it instantly. Instead, she proceeded to knock timidly on the door. The incredibly sexy Voice of God resounded through the corridor.

"YES?"

She held back tears from the sheer beauty of it all and managed to mumble, "Professor Conner is in need of your assistance, O Lord."

"SURE THING! BE THERE IN A SECOND."

Slightly taken aback at such an informal reply, Medea nodded and took three steps to her right and into the band room. God, of course, was already there.

Suddenly, Medea was knocked over by a very distraught Glen.

"Oh, Medea! It's terrible! They have taken Ames!"

"Who, Glen? Who?"

"The cellists!" he burst into tears, dramatically.

"Why?" Medea seemed confused as to what cellists would want with a crazy baritone like Ames.

"Exactly! Why?" screamed Eric, grabbing a horrified Medea by the shoulders. "WHY!" he fell to his knees. "WHY! DAMN YOU, ORCHESTRA! DAMN YOU TO HELL!" He collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor. Medea, thoroughly freaked out by now, turned around to stare meaningfully at their only hope: a glowing figure known only as God.

**---**

Meanwhile, Magdalyna was cutting woodwind class, as it was lame, and the only person who would talk to her was Mort, who was currently glued to his clarinet. She was, at the moment, "chillaxin'" with the orchestra, in particular an Asian (shock!) violinist by the name of Alice.

"So, Alice, what exactly are the cellists doing?" she asked, watching as they slowly lowered a squirming boy into a cauldron full of boiling water and various 14E contraband vegetables.

"What?" Alice glanced over. "Oh. It's almost lunch time," she said as though that should explain everything.

"Okay." Magdalyna failed to see what that had to do with anything, but she _was _hungry. "What are we having?"

Alice peered at the cauldron. "Some sort of soup, I think. You can never tell with the cellists." She shrugged.

**---**

Meanwhile, back at the ranch... er, the band room, the entire brassline was crying for God's assistance.

"Please rescue our good friend Ames!"

He sighed and looked at His watch. "I ONLY HAVE A FEW MINUTES BEFORE I PASS ON MY HOLY WORD, BUT I THINK I CAN MANAGE IT." In a flash of holy light, he was gone.

**---**

When he arrived in the orchestra room, the cellists were doing a tribal dance around the boiling pot. There was something out of place, though. A non-Asian girl had joined in the dancing.

Magdalyna stopped and stared at God. "Hey!" She exclaimed, moving out of the way. "You're God, aren't You?"

"YEAH. I'M HERE FOR THE KID." He looked around. "WHERE THE FUCK IS HE? OH. THERE HE IS."

By now the orchestra students had noticed his presence. They pushed forward a bassist who Magdalyna assumed was their spokesperson.

"Why are you in our territory?" He demanded.

"I AM GOD. I CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT TO," he informed them. "THAT AND I WANT THE AMES KID BACK."

"Ames?"

"YEAH." God pointed to the distressed figure.

"Oh. Him. Well, you can't have him! We need our nourishment!"

"BITCH, PLEASE." He removed Ames from the hook above the stewpot and gestured to Magdalyna.   
"COME," He commanded.

"Okay, see ya Alice!" She followed Him back to the band room where they were welcomed by cheering brassies.

"Thank God you're safe, Ames!" Glen exclaimed.

"Okay." Ames turned to the glowing figure. "Thank you!"

"NO PROB." He paused. "OH, FUCK. THE TUBA." He glared at the wall. It moved. He turned His head a little, and the sound of squeaking case wheels could be heard as the gigantic instrument entered the room.

Glen rushed over to the case. His face was bathed in the reflected light from the tuba. He began to cry anew.

"Presenting: the Double Contrabass Tuba!" announced Professor Conner, hopping up out of nowhere.

"Isn't it beautiful?" sighed Medea, her eyes glittering in its shiny light.

"I won't have room for my bed!" Glen wailed.

**---**


	8. The AllInclusive Lunch Hour Chapter, In

**THE ACADEMY**

**by Thoughtful Lunacy**

--

The All-Inclusive Lunch Hour Chapter, In Which Plot Is Finally Introduced, Only To Be Cut Short By A Really Lame Cliffhanger.

--

It was lunch. Yay! The girls of 14E, our basic character group, had met up outside of the dining hall, as was now their custom. That and having no one else to talk to.

They headed towards their customary table, as was their custom, customarily. They arrived there, only to find that their table GASP inhabited by several sophomores. They paused in front of the table, at a loss.

Cautiously, Medea approached the table and attempted to sit down next to a rather chubby, extremely pale girl. Across from her sat an insectish boy who exclaimed, "Yo, no lameass frosh at this table."

The dirty blond, bespectacled boy next to him shook his head. "Be quiet, Phineas! If she wants to sit with us, let her!"

"Shut up, Arthur, you Jew!" the strikingly Aryan girl beside Medea snapped.

"Let the froshies sit down!" commanded the also pale, but more golden-blonde than white-blonde girl on the other side of Phineas. "Then we can be in on their plotting!"

Taking her word as final, the rest of the girls sat down, and proceeded to stare at their food in disgust.

"Hi, I'm Serah Toddphischer! These are my friends, Phineas Cicada," she pointed to the obnoxious, buglike and un-blond boy, who promptly gave the West Side symbol. "Olga Vandermark," she gestured to the borderline Albino girl, who was currently poking the dirty-blond boy with a straw.

"And that's Arthur," said Phineas. "You'll have to speak slowly to him... he's Jewish!" he added quite loudly.

"Damn straight!" squealed Olga. The rest of the table stared at her for a moment, before pretending that they hadn't heard her.

"Okay! I'm Magdalyna!" the girl of this name informed them, much louder than necessary.

"And I'm Medea," said Medea a little more calmly, reaching across the table to shake the bewildered sophomores' hands.

"I'm Nicki!" she battered her heavily MASCARA'D! eyelashes.

"And I'm Brittany. Saxes rock!" finished the deluded musician. Her table-mates chose not to correct her this time.

Small talk ensued, until...

Boys arrived. Because Phineas and Arthur aren't boys, or anything.

Leading the pack was Ames. But he then tripped and hit the ground with a loud THWAP, losing his food to the cafeteria floor.

"Oh, worst!" exclaimed Glen.

"Are you alright?" Medea asked Ames as she and Glen pulled him off of the ground.

"Oh, shut up, woman!" This was from Eric, the bastard.

"STFU, noob," Arthur snapped. Eric had no choice but to obey, since Arthur was a sophomore. And could kick his ass.

"Oh. It's you guys. I'm glad you didn't get eaten by the orchestra children!" Magdalyna smiled.

"Yeah. I heard about that. Sounds like it was a pretty close call. Too bad God had to save you," Serah nodded. Medea and the others were just a tad bit offended by this, but decided to let it go. For now.

Fortunately, they didn't have time to dwell on Serah's statement, since Mort arrived soon after, followed by a babbling Lemonaide.

"Help!" Mort cried out to the seated group. "He's stalking me!"

"But I really do have a kajillion pounds (as in paper currency) in my pants! Want to see!"

"NO!" chorused all assembled.

But it was too late: he pulled several kajillion pounds from his front pocket, beaming. "See?"

Magdalyna collapsed into a fit of giggles, as the rest of the table sighed in relief.

"What?" Lemonaide stared in confusion.

"Nevermind," Serah shook her head in amusement. "Hey guys," she suddenly addressed the other sophomores. "Can I talk to you over there?" She pointed to a far-off corner of the cafeteria.

"Sure." They followed her, leaving the freshmen to their own devices.

The rest of the froshies joined 14E at the table and began sneaking bites of their missing elders' macaroni and cheese.

"Oh, by the way," Glen paused in his eating. "These are my good friends Mort and Lemonaide."

"Uh... I've never met you before in my life," Mort frowned.

"But... but... I swear we're the best of friends!"

"No..." Lemonaide shook his head slowly.

"Oh well!" Glen shrugged it off. "Mort, Lemonaide, these are my good friends Medea, Ames, Eric, Magdalyna, Brittany, and Nicki." He pointed to each in turn.

"...yeah," said Mort.

It was at this point that Serah and company returned.

"Come," she commanded.

"Awww! But I didn't get to finish my dessert!" whined Lemonaide.

"Shut up!" Olga barked. No one else raised any objections.

Serah led them deep into the heart of the Music department, into a part none of the younger members had seen before, not even Medea, who had gotten quite lost while searching for God in a previous chapter.

Once everyone was thoroughly disoriented, Serah halted and bent down to open a trapdoor in the floor.

"Come," she repeated.

At this point, the frosh were getting pretty freaked out. They were led down a long flight of stairs into what appeared to be an underground cathedral. Torches lit the vaulted ceiling. The room was circular, but inscribed on the floor was a great octacle, an eight-pointed star encompassed by a circle. A shrine was located at each of the eight points.

"Welcome to Caelesonare, the secret temple of band. The High Council has deemed you to be both talented and trustworthy. Today begins your initiation into our world." Serah reached into a cabinet between two of the shrines and pulled out several white robes with stiff collars. She handed one to each of the nine freshmen. "Here, put these on. No matter what you do, do NOT get these dirty, lest you invoke the wrath of Misses Kay, one of the most powerful demons of our realm." Everyone's eyes widened a little at this. Obscure gods were okay, but Robe-Demons(1)? Their worry grew as they donned their robes and Olga picked up where Serah had left off.

"You will have to complete a task. A challenge." She walked over to the center of the octacle and opened up another trapdoor. "Through this door lies a maze. If you can find your way through the maze and defeat its many obstacles, we will let you join us. If not, we will cut out your tongues, and send you back you class." Olga grinned maliciously.

"STFU, Nazi-woman! We do not cut out tongues! We just castrate. And crucify," Arthur corrected her.

"Okay. Have fun, and no pressure!" said a voice from the darkness. It was Phineas! He shoved the frosh one by one into the trapdoor.

"Oh, worst!" cried Glen.

--

(1)Also known as uniform moms!

--

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Apologies for such a bitchy ending to the chapter. The next one will up soon! Well, eventually, anyway.


	9. They Hurtled Through a Vortex

**THE ACADEMY**

**by Thoughtful Lunacy**

**DISCLAIMER:** Neither of us own RENT.

**--**

They Hurtled Through a Vortex

**--**

They hurtled through a vortex. It was blue with occasional sparks of gold and lilac. But none of them really noticed that. They were a little busy hurtling. The nine attempted to hold hands for fear of losing one another, but their love was not strong enough.

"No matter what happens, you guys, just remember: I love you!"

"Shut up, Lemonaide!" Glen yelled as they spun off in different directions, the vortex winds pulling them to opposite ends of this strange new universe.

**--**

Nicki landed with an unfortunate squelching noise right in the middle of a large mud patch. It was raining. This was her worst nightmare. Except for that one, where she was laying in bed, and an orange tree attacked her and pelted her with grapefruit, and she was wearing a sombrero that kept getting smaller, and all she could say was "¡No me gusta!", which was odd, since she didn't speak Spanish. But other than that, this was her worst nightmare!(1)

And it only got worse!

Before she had even managed to get up, an angry-looking young man with a whistle appeared by her side.

"Are you here to help me up?" Nicki asked.

"NO! I'm here to take your self-esteem, chew it up, spit it out, stomp on it, let my dog play with it, throw it against the wall, and then give it back to you! Now, lemme see you do the Death Defying Googolplex!"

"What the hell is that?" Nicki demanded.

"Do I look like your teacher? Or your big sister!"

"No... I'm an only child."

"Do you want to play dolls?" the marching instructor continued over top of her. "I brought my Skipper! This is what I think of your Barbies!" He turned around and plucked a tulip, quite possible the most beautiful tulip to have ever grown. Even despite the pouring rain, its vibrant petals seemed to glow with a magical power. And he bit it off the stem. And chewed it up, spat it out, stomped on it, gave it to his dog to play with, threw it against a convenient wall, and handed it back to a rather appalled Nicki, which brought her to the conclusion that this man was insane.

"Now, drop and give me 88,146!"

"NO!" Nicki screamed. And slapped him. The world exploded into blue light, with occasional sparks of gold and lilac.

**--**

Meanwhile, Ames was faced with a most impossible task. It was not raining where he was, nor was there a Death Defying Googolplex to perform. Only a 4 to 86 step size for six measures at quarter note 185. Between steps, there was a black abyss that beckoned him to accept his doom. So, being the thoughtful person he was, he did.

"Screw this," he said, eyeing the immense distance. "I forfeit!" He took off his robe and folded it neatly. "No need to be sloppy," he reasoned. He was expecting to go back to the temple. He was expecting to wake up in his bed. He was expecting bacon for breakfast tomorrow.

What he was not expecting was the puff of black smoke that mushroomed out of the void as he set his robe down. When it cleared, he was equally surprised to see a middle aged woman in a pristine white shirt and black slacks, each with a shiny gold "K" embroidered on the side.

A jolt of recognition shot through Ames at the sight of the robe demon, Missus Kay.

"You!" he screamed. "You killed my father!"

"No, Ames," the demon shook her head. "I _am_ your father."

Ames paused in shock for a moment. "But you're a woman!"

"Oh. Right. Then I guess I'm your mother. And I guess I did kill your father. Oh well!"  
"...Mommy!" She nodded and held her arms open. Ames ran to embrace her. Everything went black. Or, African-American, to be P.C. and cool like the other stories.

**--**

Medea and Eric came out of the vortex together, screaming. When they turned and saw each other, they continued to scream.

"Why are you here!" Eric demanded.

"Where are the keweliez people!" Medea jumped on a tree stump and started to sing.

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SINGING! Why is everyone here so fucking weird!"

"I'm the only one here!" Medea climbed down off the tree stump.

"I know!" Eric retorted somewhat hysterically.

"Fuck you!" they yelled in unison. They hit a chord. It rang into the sky.

"Whoa. Our swearing has caused a beautiful note," said Eric cheesily.

"Don't look at me! I didn't sing the fifth on purpose!"

"Well, I didn't mean to sing the third!"

"You didn't sing the third, you sang the root, idiot!" Medea sang in a melodious fashion.

"How the hell would you know, it wasn't you who sang it!" Eric continued the impromptu song.

"Wait. This must be the task! I have to sing a duet... with that bastard!" Medea stared at said bastard in disgust. Suddenly, guitar and piano music began to resonate from the air.

"You know," Medea began, "Since we're out here in the wild with a tree stump, we might need a shelter..."

"What are you getting at?" Eric eyed Medea suspiciously.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...

_Live in my house, I'll be your shelter_

_Just pay me back_

_With one thousand kisses!_"

"EWWW!" Eric began to cry.

"_Be my lover - I'll cover you..._ it's not me! It's the song, I swear! Don't be my lover! That would be so fricking weird!" Eric was turning blue from trying not to sing. But alas, he was not strong enough.

"_Open your door, I'll be your tenant..._ oh! The innuendo! It burns! _Don't got much baggage to lay at your feet._

_But sweet kisses I've got to spare._

_I'll be there, and I'll cover you_..."

"Please don't!"

"I'm trying... but I can't... stop... the music..."

They sang together,

"_I think they meant it, when they said you can't buy love..._"

"I can!" yelled Lemonaide whose voice appeared from nowhere.

"Get the fuck out!" screamed Medea.

"But I'm not here! I'm in a terrible place with second-hand trumpets! AAUGH!"

"I don't care!"

The song continued.

"_Now I know you can rent it._

_A new lease you are my love on life... be my life!_"

"Can we cancel this lease?" wondered Eric aloud.

"Wouldn't hurt to try... ahh! _You'll be my king, and I'll be your castle!_"

"_No, you'll be my queen, and I'll be your moat..._ What the fuck does that mean?

"I don't want to know!"

The two sang in unison,

"_I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love.._"

"That's it! That's all I can handle!" Medea screamed, and drew a randomly placed samurai sword and attempted ritual suicide. It didn't work.

"NOOOO! No more song, no more music!" she charged at Eric, sword held at about belly level.

"Please, God, crucify me!" cried Eric to the sky. The sword snapped in two as it hit his rock-hard abs. "Hey, look! Half for you, half for me!"

"Shut up!" screamed Medea, and they started snogging, and continued to sing. While snogging. The world erupted into blackness.

**--**

Mort was not a happy camper. Mostly because he wasn't camping, thus making it hard to be a camper. But he also wasn't happy. Sections should not run like this. Follow the Leader was NOT a musical exercise.

Magdalyna wasn't much of a happy camper either. This was no way to spend free time. Sectionals were no fun. But at least she had the shiny section leader badge. Now if only she could get rid of the section that went with it. They were just so... focused. It had taken _forever_ to convince them that Follow the Leader was a musical exercise.

After a few minutes, Mort snapped. "Of for the love of GOD!(2) We need to do something musical and productive!"

The rest of the section looked at him with wide eyes. "But we are!"

"Shouldn't we be playing scales? Or warm-ups?" he hinted ever so subtly.

"Do _you _have the shiny badge? I don't think so. I do. And I say we... stand on our heads!" Magda beamed. The clarinets obediently leaned upside-down against the wall. "See? Isn't _this_ more fun?"

"But we're not getting any better!" Mort screamed.

"Sure we are. Now we'll be able to play upside-down if ever we're in space."

"That's just ridiculous! When will any of us be in space!"

"A truly competent musician finds it necessary to have the dexterity to perform in any number of circumstances," Magdalyna intoned as she slid down from the wall.

"What? That didn't make any sense." Mort was unable to resist it any longer. He lunged for the shiny badge.

"No!" shrieked Magdalyna. "MINE! Clarinet minions - retain him!"

The dingy practice room darkness, save for a shiny point of sectional power-y light.

**--**

(1)As well as the authors'. RUN-ON SENTENCE OH NO!

(2)The one called God jumped up from His chair in the Academy library. "THE STALKER FAN-CLUB IS BACK!" He ran fearfully back to His divine dorm.

**--**

**AUTHORS' NOTE: **Remember that all the characters are just characters and what they do doesn't mean anything about real people. So don't kill us, please!

Also a shameless plug for **_Trial by Storm_** goes here. Read it, and God will smile. Review it, and He will take off His Divine shirt. Trust me - that's a good thing!


	10. Sensitive Guys

**THE ACADEMY**

**---**

**Sensitive Guys**

**---**

Glen hated it when they fought. Honestly, what was the point? He sighed and stepped between the Lemonaide and Eric.

"Yes Lemonaide, your family is very well-off. Yes Eric, your father owns the school. You're both equally important." The two combatants nodded guiltily.

"Hey. I know we're all sensitive guys who aren't afraid to cry. So, since we're going to be spending so much time together, we might as well go ahead and lay everything on the table," Ames suggested with a psychotic smile. "I'll go first! My name is Ames."

"Hi Ames," the rest of the room chorused.

"And my mom was never there for me. Neither was my dad, but that's not his fault. Mom killed him. I only found this out recently, but I'm ok with it. I'm proud of my mother. I can't wait to get to know her as a person.

My brother raised me, I guess. If you can call it raising. It was more like boot camp my entire childhood! It's made me the person I am today. I want to be just like my brother. He can do the Googleplex!" He paused. "Now you Lemonaide."

"Uhh…" Lemonaide looked around the room. "Well, I've been filthy rich for as long as I can remember. My parents were never there for me, but I always had plenty of money, so what did it matter?" Lemonaide shrugged.

"Now your turn, Mort."

"No. I'm not talking to you weirdoes." He glared.

"Come on Mort," they pleaded.

"NO!"

"Ok. We'll come back to you later."

"I'll go if you don't want to," Glen beamed. "I love and miss my parents. And my sisters. And aunts and uncles. And grandparents. But not my brother. I saw him two weeks ago. Anyways, he killed them all and he's a bastard. But that's ok. I love him anyways. Now how about you Eric?"

Eric shrugged. "My life is perfect. I have two loving parents, and a loving uncle. And I'm first chair."

"But we haven't had chair tests yet!" Mort screamed.

"So?" Eric was unconcerned. "Still first chair. But anyways, my dad loves me very much. He takes great care of me! There was this one time, I was hit by a white Bentley limo with the Academy logo on the door. Stupid asshole driver! He didn't keep his job. But anyways, I was hit by the Headmaster's limo, and was in the hospital for several weeks. And when I woke up, Dad had been there the whole time. The nurses said he was crying when I woke up, and held a knife over my sleeping form- to protect me from hospital ninjas! And those must have been tears of joy! And then there's my Uncle Ryan. He's my mom's best friend. They hang out all the time, and even have sleep-overs. I'm so happy they're such good friends! And he got me my silver euphonium! I love my Uncle Ryan!"

Everyone eyed Eric with uncomfortable disbelief.

"Your… Uncle Ryan sleeps over?"

"Yeah, but only when my dad's out of town. Mom doesn't like to be alone."

"I see…" Ames walked over to Eric. "Eric, I think there's something you should know…" But Glen grabbed his shoulder and forced him back into his seat.

"Mort, it's your turn."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"NO!" His eyes glowed red.

"YES!"

The glow faded from his eyes. "Okay. I was born abroad, in Maine. When I was one year, three months old, we moved back to the continent and traveled some more. I received a regular education, and won these glasses. I was seven when we finally came back home."

"So that's why your accent is so funny!" interjected Ames. Mort gave him a look.

"_Anyways_. I've been playing the clarinet ever since we came back to Europe. It's my only friend."

"What about me?" Lemonaide looked close to tears.

"Yeah, whatever." Mort embraced his clarinet.

Somewhere far away, the one known as God rolled his eyes. "FREAKS."

**---**


	11. Well Actually You Forgot the CONCERT

-1**THE ACADEMY**

**By Thoughtful Lunacy**

**---**

**Well actually you forgot the CONCERT**

**---**

The stage was really pretty. And crowded.

The one called God stood at its front, hands at ready. The never-before-mentioned Parents' concert was merely weeks away, and the freshman band needed a lot of help.

The drama classes and the other bands watched them boredly from the audience seats. It was a full house.

The one known as God raised his hands and brought them down in a perfect 4/4 pattern. The frosh began to play. The audience winced.

Phineas kept a steady glare on the back of God's head. His lips were moving, and if you listened closely, you could just barely make out the words "Fr34k1n6 n00b. Why d035 h3 637 70 d0 3v3ry7h1n6 c00? 1'm 33754uc3! 1 c4n d0 17 b3773r! 1' 5h0w h1m!" And yet no one around him thought this ominous. Probably because no one could understand all those godd4mn numb3r5. 0h w3l1.

---

A few weeks, or sentences, later, the CONCERT! All of the school was in the audience. And all the band parents. Even Missus Kay.

"Do it up, Ames-ey! Make me and Ike proud!"  
"Reuel Burroughs! Say something nice about our beautiful son." …

"Break a neck, er, leg, Eric!"

"Glen! What the hell are you playing!"

"Go Brucey! 3"

On stage, Magdalyna turned to Mort.

"Who the hell is Bruce?"

"Shut up! We're starting!"

They did. They played. It might have even been music.

UNTIL!

The lights turned off. The music stopped as several flutes screamed in terror.

Fortunately, a single light eminated from God's divine presence. A figure in a long black cloak emblazoned with the red words "Dr. Dastardly" leapt toward God's light, knife in hand.

Just before "Dr. Dastardly" plunged the blade into God's heart, Eric leapt out in front of him.

"I won't let you do this!"

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? I'M CONDUCTING HERE. SIT DOWN AND PLAY, BITCH." Eric was once again overcome, and sat down. Even though his chair and instrument were on the other side of the band.

Lemonaide stood up and cried out, "No! I can't do it!"

"DO WHAT?"

Dr. Dastardly sighed disappointedly at Lemonaide and plunged the knife into God. The divine One didn't stop conducting, even as his back arched slowly and gracefully backward. For a split second, he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backward, like a giant rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

Harry...er... Eric felt as though he too were hurtling through space (A VORTEX); _it had not happened. ... It could not have happened._

"Come, my apprentice!" Dr. Dastardly grabbed Lemonaide and ran off. A puff of purple smoke and they disappeared. Shocked silence. A/C and an outside door opening. "Dammit."

Terror tore at Eric's heart... He had to get Dumbledore and he had to catch Snape...er... Dr. Dastardly... Somehow the two things were linked... He could reverse what had happened if he had them both together... God could not have died...

Eric stood up again to run after Dr. Dastardly, but Professor Connor had finally made it to the stage and blocked his way. "No. Stay here. We don't need to lose any more lives tonight." He was crying. Wuss. "Let's finish the performance. It's what he would have wanted. And we have this huge audience out there, and they want to hear some beautiful music, and..." Connor gestured helplessly and trailed off.

"No he wouldn't have! He'd want us to do something, goddammit!" a voice rang out from the low brass section, those who knew him best.

"Shut up and play!" Magdalyna yelled in a decidely uncharacteristic moment of anger. And they did. And it was music. Beautiful, soul-wrenching music, full of emotion and loss. Of tempo. They mutilated the march, and turned it into a dirge. A memorial to the one known as God, most divine of them all.

At the end of the song, Professor Connor stepped up to the microphone. "Well, guys," he addressed the parents, "thank you for your cooperation. I know things have been a little... hectic tonight. And I'm sorry. I don't know how Lord Burroughs will want to deal with this crisis, but I, at least, believe we should keep the school open. In Bruce's memory."

"_BRUCE?_" chorused the band from behind him.

At this moment, Lord Burroughs stood up. "I'm sorry, Connor, but I cannot allow that. The Academy will be closing tonight. I do not know if we will ever reopen. This tragedy cannot be overlooked. We have been entirely too lax in our security at this school, and I cannot allow this to continue. To think that a maniac like that could have made his way in! And left Eric alive! I mean... killed out star student. No. The Academy cannot continue on as it is now. And even if it does ever reopen, I doubt the music program will. I am sorry to all of you. Your money will be refunded as best as can be done. I would like to ask you all to return home and take your students with you. I am sorry. Thank you and good night."

The parents and their students filed out of the auditorium slowly.

"Good-bye," Magdalyna ran up and hugged her room mates and Mort, before running after her parents. Brittany and Medea talked a minute with Professor Connor before they also left. Nicki took one look at Ames's older brother Ike and fled. Mort left with his family, and that of Lemonaide. Glen was sobbing. Missus Kay and Ike held Ames close, comforting him as best they could. Eric didn't even bother joining his parents in the audience. He just ran backstage, to his father's study in the front of the school.

They all left differently, and with slightly different reactions, but they all left. And they all independently made a silent vow to return. To avenge God. To find the strange villain entitled Dr. Dastardly. To learn the secrets of the octacle. To make friends. To eat enemies. To play music. To live life, at the Academy.

**---**

**THE END**

**---**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Well, that's it. After over two years, we've finally had enough courage to end this terrible piece of literature. Leaving many holes and unanswered questions. But seriously. When we began writing this story, we were freshmen looking for a creative release. We thought it sounded funny, so we kept it going. But now, we're juniors. We've changed a lot since then. We now have minimal time to write. And it kind of pisses us off that we're writing about stupid frosh. So we decided to make a quick ending and to keep the story going in RPG form. If this concept interests you at all, go ahead and check out the forums we've already made at

thoughtfulunacy dot proboards102 dot com/index dot cgi

Will we continue the story here on FanFiction? Maybe, maybe not. We'll have to see how busy we are after marching band season.

So you see, it's not the end. It's a new beginning for the Academy students!

**DISCLAIMER: **Many quotes in this chapter belong to J.K. Rowling, so it's probably best to leave the entire chapter in her possession, just to be safe.


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